Its bridge is flat and fastened tight, the long crack reinforced, the neck is straight and the action is once again light as a sonnet. My guitar is back as of day before yesterday. I visited, and met a jocular young man from Manchester, whose life had ".always been about music", he said. A little while ago Annie mentioned someone had told her about a new guitar store, "Imagine music", which had opened right up the street. The Goya rested peacefully in its heavy black case. I played until my fingers hurt I wanted them to hurt. They could see me through the window, but mercifully, they didn't have to listen. They took me to a room and brought me instruments, and I sat alone playing for a good long time. "I guess I need to look at new guitars," I said to them. It must have been my face, perhaps the slumping head and shoulders. When I came back down the stairs everyone in the main part of the shop fell into a respectful silence. Worse, it was like the vet pointing out the cat was already dead, you just hadn't noticed. Hearing that was a little like taking your cat in for a check-up and being told he needed to be put down. He said it would take about twelve weeks (of fretting?) and $600 to take it apart with no guarantee he could actually put it back together again. Musicians and music producers have steered me there over the years, and so when the bearded old fellow upstairs looked at my instrument and pronounced it dead I believed him. There is a guitar store in Toronto called "The twelfth fret". Enough, I thought, I miss my music it's time to act. Unplayable, neglected, it sat silent in its case for the last several years.
The bridge had pulled away from the body, and the neck was warped and separating as well.
#Old goya classical guitar dude cracked#
Its finish was cracked and marred, with little dents here and there, and one evil split from the bridge to the hole where a former friend had kicked a dining room chair into it one drunk, stoned and clumsy day. He recently posted a photo of his latest creation, which reminded me of my old guitar a vintage Goya G-17.Īfter many years of neglect I decided to bite the bullet and spend whatever necessary to get my old guitar back into shape. Steve used to be one of the great Creative Directors, but he’s come to his senses and now makes beautiful guitars in other words, he now does something of lasting value to the world. Steve Denver is one of the old boys from the ‘biz who meet every Friday for lunch at The Beamish, a pub in Port Hope.
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